"How can real life seem more like a dream than any dreams? What is reality? Life? Death? Who can tell? A whirling head, a furiously beating heart, unseeing eyes, unsteady legs must somehow walk on into the dream, to be enveloped by it, to feel its clamminess, to protest it...One must pick up life again, even though one feels as dead on inside as a wound-up tin soldier - mechanically- setting one foot- in front of the other."
Catherine Marshall 1957